I'll Tell You a Thing
by Spring Zephyr
Summary: Cyril is preoccupied with upholding the monastery's new rules about not feeding stray cats. Lysithea is more concerned about the fact that he's obviously sick. (Shippy gen.)


"Lady Rhea says you're not supposed to feed the cats," Cyril commented off-handedly.

He was just passing by, carrying some kitchen leftovers to an area just outside the monastery for compost. If he'd spotted anyone else doing this, Cyril might not have bothered speaking half as gently as he was right now. Lady Rhea had been very firm the last time they'd spoken about this – _no feeding any unnamed, __untethered__ animals around the monastery_.

But this was Lysithea, and Lysithea was the smartest person Cyril knew. Aside from Rhea herself, perhaps. Either she didn't already know the rules, or she had a good reason to disobey them.

"It's not wrong to help an innocent creature in need," Lysithea replied.

Cyril frowned, wearing an expression not too unlike his usual one. So… she had a reason. But she did know the cat wasn't really "in need", right? There were plenty of small rodents and birds to feed a cat in the monastery, not to mention the hordes of insects that liked to hang out in some of the lesser used corners, no matter how much Cyril cleaned.

For the first time since this conversation had started, she looked up at him. "Cyril, your face is red."

"Been out in the sun all day," Cyril replied quickly, easily.

Maybe he shoulda left Lysithea and the orange and white furball alone after all. What were a few scraps of leftover chicken from dinner going to do to just one cat?

It was barely noon, and several people prior to Lysithea had taken the time to point out he didn't look well. Seteth had made a similar comment earlier, and Raphael had offered to take over his morning chores (and compared him to his little sister, for some reason. Cyril wasn't sure what that was about) if he was feeling sick. Heck, Dorothea had asked if he wanted to be tucked into bed and sung a lullabye! A minor bishop of Rhea's had insisted he looked more tired than usual, and shortly afterward he'd run into Anette in the dining hall, who'd said the same exact thing! Just when he'd thought he was safe, Manuela had swooped outta nowhere and tried to drag him off to the infirmary.

He'd managed to dodge all of them and avoided Lady Rhea all day, torn between the chances of Lady Rhea agreeing with all of them and the risk of disappointing her. Cyril knew he was sick. He'd known from the second he'd woken up, noticed his raw throat and the way his face felt warm even though the rest of him was shivering and cold.

He needed to stay occupied though. Not only for Lady Rhea; it kept his mind off things. It made him feel useful, and like he belonged somewhere. If he belonged, he couldn't get kicked out. The only solution was for him to continue working.

Real unfortunate, but it was starting to look like he'd have to give Lysithea the cold shoulder, same as all the others.

"Anyway, the animals around here are basically strays. If ya start feeding them, they're gonna wind up in the dining hall, thinkin' our food is theirs to share all the time."

"Then close the doors," Lysithea huffed.  
"...Better to air out the place if the doors are open all day long," Cyril replied.

In truth, he didn't know why the Church of Seiros kept them open in the first place, except, perhaps, to to prevent the hall from getting any darker than it already was.

"The professor is the one who leaves them open all day."

They both knew who Lysithea was talking about. There was only one person in the academy with such a chronic phobia of closing doors.

"Oh," was all Cyril said at first. Then he turned his eyes foreward, back to the huge monastery gates, and continued walking. "A-anyway, I gotta go. Still lots to do. Once I finish churning the compost pile, there's laundry, firewoord, cleaning the sanctuary…" He trailed off before he got too far. No point in talking if no one was around to hear it. "I'll see ya around, Lysithea."

"Wait!"

Cyril couldn't have frozen in place faster if it had been Lady Rhea yelling for him. He didn't look back. He was supposed to be focused.

Lysithea scrambled to her feet, wiping leftover chicken grease carelessly onto her skirt as she did. Her footsteps, as she closed the distance between them, were heavy enough that Cyril could've counted if he wanted to – _one, two three _– no, stop that!

Then she was in front of him, her hands on his shoulders, and he couldn't _pretend _to ignore her anymore. Despite their natural softness, her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt with a firmness that implied "you will not walk away from me, will not brush me off like you did Seteth and the others".

He could still do it, of course. Lysithea wasn't strong enough to hold him in place. Except, for some reason, he couldn't.

"When was the last time you had anything to drink?"

But he _had_ to.

He ducked his shoulders and slid back, breaking out of the hold the same way Shamir had taught him. Granted, it hadn't been much of a hold – the only thing keeping Cyril in place was himself.

"I'll get a drink after I finish the composting," Cyril promised. He walked a little faster this time. "_Good bye_, Lysithea."

"I'm only looking out for you!" she called after him, frustration in her voice. "And it's not _that_ hot today! You're either sick or not looking after _yourself!_"

Looking out for him, was she? There sure were a lot of people who wanted to do that lately. Lysithea was just one of the only people he'd listen to – wouldn't want to make that fever worse, after all.

Maybe he'd talk to Lady Rhea about the cats too. Or keeping the dining room doors close. Maybe he'd round up one of the fluffy, sociable little ones and convince her to let Lysithea keep it as a pet. They both liked cats, right? He knew Lysithea would take real good care of it, and maybe sometimes when he wasn't as busy he would stop by her dorm room and they could take care of it together.

Or maybe he'd ask Shamir why, lately, there was always two people on his mind instead of one. Right after he got that drink of water, and possibly even a nap.

** Cyril's tea time topics include things like "cats", "cute monks", "favorite sweets", "perfect recipes", etc… No wonder I never manage perfect tea time with him. :/**


End file.
